An Eye for Death Read online

26. Family Matter

  Shit. The quick whoop of a siren startled Barry, and he jerked his head from the road in front to his mirror where a police car, with red and blue lights flashing, loomed on his bumper. Shit.

  His foot came off the accelerator as he started to guide the truck onto the shoulder. It wasn't necessary. The Iowa State Patrol car passed on the left, accelerating.

  Geez. His heart slowed. Amazing, how blue lights make a grown man go all weak.

  Up ahead, the cruiser pulled in behind a foreign car. The small car and state patrol cruiser pulled onto the shoulder. Slowing, he pulled into the left lane, watching what happened as he passed.

  A tall officer got out of the cruiser and approached the small car. His hand on the butt of his pistol, he approached along the side of the car.

  Barry pulled back to the right and continued north on I-29. A few more hours now and he would be home.

  Stan Knudsen watched the driver and passenger of the Toyota as he approached. The driver took his wallet out of his pants pocket, watching the trooper walk up in the side view mirror. The tall officer was a little more cautious than the driver would have expected on a routine traffic stop. Driver's license in hand, he rolled the window down as the officer came even with the door.

  “Morning. License and registration please,” Stan Knudsen said through the window scanning the interior of the Toyota.

  “Yes, sir. The registration is in the glove box officer.”

  “Get it,” Stan said.

  Aware that the trooper's hand rested on his holstered sidearm, the driver moved slowly and with extreme care while he fished around for the registration amongst papers and tissues stuffed in the compartment. Moving items with his fingers, he made sure the officer could see his hands at all times.

  “Here it is.” He turned back to Knudsen and handed the registration slip to him.

  Scanning it for a few seconds, Knudsen compared it with the driver's license. “Step out of the car, please.” He moved backward along the side of the Toyota while the man opened the door.

  “Uh...yes, sir. I...uh...know I was speeding officer. Sorry about that.”

  Knudsen motioned him to the rear of the car and then directed him to the right of the vehicle away from traffic. The driver was middle-aged thick and muscular, his large hands bearing the signs of manual labor.

  “Mr. Shumwald, you were speeding. I clocked you at a little over ninety.”

  “Yes sir,” was all the driver could say.

  Stan looked at the license tag on the car. Everything was from Kansas. Tag, driver's license, and registration.

  “You're a long way from home to be in such a hurry.” Stan let the words hang there waiting for an answer.

  “Well, yes sir. I know. I'm sorry.”

  “That's it? Nothing else?” Stan persisted.

  The look on his face told Stan that Shumwald didn't want to discuss the trip with him or anyone else. He would take the ticket so that he could get back on the road.

  “Well, I got in a hurry and lost track of how fast I was going. Don't know what else to say.”

  “So where are you going to in such a hurry, that you lost track?”

  “Well...” He sighed, uncomfortable at involving this officer, a stranger in their business, but it was clear that the officer, the little name tag read Knudsen, didn't care about his discomfort. He waited, looking at Shumwald's face.

  Shumwald finally spoke. “We're headed up to Grand Forks. We're...uh, looking for someone.”

  “Really?” Knudsen gave him a hard look. “Who?

  “Look. Officer, no disrespect intended, but this is a personal matter. A family matter.”

  “That's interesting because we've had several calls from motorists that a couple in a Toyota with Kansas tags has been racing up on their bumpers in a dangerous way, passing and driving erratically. That makes it a public matter. One caller said they appeared to be fighting, arguing. Another caller described the driver as having road rage.” Knudsen raised his eyebrows and asked Mr. Shumwald, “Would that be you by any chance? Do you have road rage? Are you angry?”

  The struggle on Shumwald's face showed plainly. The last thing he wanted was to tell a stranger about their search for their daughter.

  “Harry!” The woman in the car opened the passenger door and stood by the door. Her round face, puffy and eyes red with the tears, indicated she had been crying. “Harry, for god's sake, swallow your pride, tell the officer about Cynthia so we can go.”

  Knudsen turned his stern gaze to the woman. “Ma'am, you stay there.” Then, turned back to Shumwald.

  For a moment, Shumwald’s face twisted in annoyance at the woman. Then, taking a deep breath, he began, “We're headed to Grand Forks because our daughter is in college, University of North Dakota.” He stopped speaking, struggling with his emotions and the public discussion of their personal affairs with a stranger. Knudsen was silent, the look on his face a blank, waiting for the explanation.

  Shumwald continued speaking in a rapid monotone, trying to get it out as quickly as possible. “We got a call from our daughter's, roommate last night. She said Cynthia is living with a boy in town, his apartment. They been taking drugs...meth she said. We don't know what that is exactly, but...” he shrugged, in resignation as he spoke, ending the explanation “But we're going to bring her home.”

  Knudsen nodded. “Sorry to hear about your troubles.” He handed the driver's license and registration back. “Slow down and get there safely, Mr. Shumwald. Okay?”

  “I'm sorry officer.” Shumwald nodded, subdued. “I didn't mean to scare anyone. We aren't thinking too straight right now. This kind of took us by surprise. Cynthia's always been the one we could rely on, someone you could always trust. Don't know what's got into her, but...” A tear glistened at the corner of his eye. “We have to do something.”

  “I understand. Good luck with your daughter, but keep your speed down and no more arguing in the car, it's dangerous.” His eyes moved from one to the other as they both nodded their understanding at him.

  Knudsen watched Mr. Shumwald pull from the shoulder, merging the Toyota into the interstate traffic.

  Noting the traffic stop in his activity log, he picked up the mike. “Fifty-one Alpha, 10-8. This is not going to be the suspect vehicle. Driver and passenger do not match the physical on the suspect and female.”

  Knudsen gunned the engine. Racing north on I-29 towards Sioux City, he headed to a spot he knew where he could watch the interstate traffic for the Toyota and still respond to calls from dispatch.

  The Iowa State Patrol car raced by the rental truck. Less concerned about his driving now, Barry was more annoyed at the trooper's speed after scaring the crap out of him a few miles back. Just the same, he kept his hands on the wheel at ten and two and glanced down at the speedometer.

  27. Close It Up

  Pulling off at an exit, Paul crossed the bridge. Turning back onto the entrance ramp to I-29 northbound, he pulled off into the grass. The cross road and ramps were elevated enough that any car taking the underpass on I-29 would not see Paul’s patrol car until they were well past the exit and committed to remaining on the interstate. He and Stan Knudsen had decided to spend some time this morning watching for the suspect vehicle from Kansas.

  Still a long shot, he thought. The likelihood that the old Toyota would pass this exit on I-29 was remote. But the car had to go somewhere and not having any idea who the suspect was, they figured they had as much chance of spotting him on I-29 as on any other stretch of road. At any rate, it wouldn’t hurt to sit and watch for a while.

  The traffic flowed by on the interstate below. Cars, pickups, semi rigs, business, pleasure, local jaunts and cross-country trips. Watching the moving traffic always evoked a sense of curiosity. Each of the self-contained vehicles had a life, its own secrets. It excited him. The vehicles, the traffic, purpose brought into movement, brought to life.

  Two motor homes drove by. They looked like they were foll
owing each other. School was in so these were probably older, maybe retired, people out for one last vacation, taking advantage of the beautiful fall weather before the winter set in. Where would they be going? Where would they camp tonight? Tomorrow night?

  A rental truck cruised by below towing a car. It was definitely not speeding and the truck looked like it had seen better days. Somebody moving across country. They always gave the shit trucks to the cross-country renters and kept the good ones for the local weekend and business renters. He wondered where they were going and where they had started. Another new adventure, a new home and a new life. And within the truck everything from the past life bundled up until the past life became part of the new life.

  The breeze blew lightly through the open window. A late season bee buzzed monotonously in the grass outside the car window. An old Toyota passed by on the interstate below.

  It seemed so natural, so part of the traffic and the day as it cruised by that Paul just sat there for a moment. It wasn’t going too fast or too slow. Nothing about its movements made it seem suspicious. In fact, it seemed so ordinary and was moving in such an ordinary way that it was hard to believe that there was anything extraordinary about it. But there it was, an older model Toyota Corolla, perfectly matching the description of the suspect vehicle. Of course, Stan had stopped another older model Toyota not an hour earlier and it had been a false alarm. It was more than likely that this would also be some citizen legitimately going about his business. But, if it was the older model Toyota, the suspect vehicle, then it held a very extraordinary secret far darker than any in the other vehicles moving busily along the interstate.

  From his position, Paul could not make out the occupants, but he knew there were at least two because he had seen the silhouette of a person, not too big, maybe a girl, on the passenger side as the car went by the entrance ramp. A passenger and a driver, Paul noted, useful information for the traffic stop he was going to make.

  He shifted into gear and began rolling down the entrance ramp onto I-29 northbound. No need to be in too big a hurry. There were no exits for several miles. The Toyota was contained on the interstate and Paul had it in sight. He would let it get closer to the next exit and see if he could get some back up for the traffic stop.

  Twenty miles north, Stan Knudsen was taking a break from the hunt for the Toyota, questioning the driver of a truck that had been speeding. He would let him finish the traffic stop before pulling over the Toyota. Then Stan would be closer if Paul needed back-up.

  Maintaining an interval of about half a mile behind the Toyota, Paul watched the movements of the silhouetted driver and passenger. The normalness of the car as he followed it made it hard to believe that it could be part of something as terrible as the murders down in Kansas and Nebraska.

  He lifted the microphone.

  “Forty-two Alpha. I’m following an older model Toyota, north on I-29. There appear to be at least two occupants, descriptions unknown.”

  “10-4 Forty-two Alpha.” There was just the slightest bit of tension in the dispatcher’s voice.

  “Forty-two Alpha. I’m about fifteen miles south of Exit124, County Road 102. I’ll pull the car at that location. Request backup unit if available.”

  Paul knew that requesting the backup was not necessary. Every ISP and sheriff’s car anywhere near the same county would be coming to assist, but it was procedure and he wouldn’t mind the company. As the miles passed, Paul began closing the interval with the Toyota. Not too fast. Don’t spook the driver. Close it up nice and easy.

  28. Squirming

  Barry squirmed in the truck seat. It wasn’t the seat that bothered him, it was his bladder. Leaving Concordia, he had finished the drive west across Missouri on I-70. Driving around the outskirts of Kansas City, he had merged onto I-29 and headed north. Sioux Falls, South Dakota was now only about five hours away, maybe six at the pace he was making this day in the rental truck.

  After the marathon drive the day before it was a piece of cake. The anticipation of his arrival in Sioux Falls and the pleasant autumn weather shortened the miles. All was well, except for the urge in his bladder that was beginning to be insistent. He was going to have to find a place to pee.

  He gave a look at the large, empty coffee cup lying on the seat beside him. No better not, he thought. There will be a rest area or exit soon. He wasn’t sure why he thought so. He hadn’t seen an exit or rest area for miles.

  Barry pushed his knees together as much as could while driving to try and stem the urge to pee. Damn it, it didn’t help much and his squirming in the seat increased.

  A green sign on the right a ways up the road became visible, an exit coming up. Thank god.

  When he got to it, it wasn’t an exit. Shit. But the sign did indicate that it was two miles to the exit for a county road. Probably no gas station or store, but it would have to do. He looked at the empty coffee cup again. He had emptied it, now he could refill it. He shook his head, nope. Last time he had tried something like that he had ended up with a lap full of piss. Nope, just keep going. Two more miles. Don’t think about it, just drive. He squirmed again.

  29. Adrenalin Surged

  The whistling stopped suddenly. Lauren glanced at Luther. His eyes were narrow slits, peering into the rearview mirror.

  He reached his hand under the front seat and pulled out the hunting knife while his eyes moved from the mirror to the road and back. The blade had taken the lives of at least three people. She tensed, not sure what to expect.

  When they reached Omaha on I-80 eastbound, Luther had decided that there were, in fact, too many people to the east, and had taken I-29 north from the area, determining correctly that the traffic would be lighter heading up into Iowa and the Dakotas. The ride had been almost peaceful since then.

  Now, Lauren held her breath. She had no idea why he reached for the knife, but something behind, in the mirror held his attention. The knife's blade glinted in his hand.

  He lifted his shirt, tucked it under his belt, and moved it around a little to adjust its position. Then he pulled the shirt down over the handle, looking down to make sure it was not visible.

  Something was wrong. Lauren had no idea what exactly, but the hope that her ordeal would be ending soon began to grow inside. She worked hard to control her excitement. She needed to focus, wait for the right moment, if it came.

  Whatever he saw in the mirror absorbed all of his attention now, and it was something he didn't like. Not wanting to provoke one of his outbursts, she didn’t dare turn her head to see what it was, but she was smart and knew that it had to be some sort of law enforcement following them.

  The knife concealed under his shirt seemed more ominous than if he held in front of her eyes. Something was going to happen soon. She had to be ready.

  Luther continued shifting his stare from the road to the mirror. The muscles in his body tensed. Even with its low profile emergency lights designed for traffic patrol, Luther spotted the State Patrol cruiser with ease.

  For a while, the patrol car followed at a distance. Now, it gradually closed the gap between the two vehicles, advancing a hundred yards or so, then following for a minute before gaining another hundred yards on the Toyota.

  Luther let him come on, his senses twitching, tasting, smelling, and hearing everything. There was no fear. He was in survival mode. All of the cunning and base instincts he possessed focused on what was required to escape the threat and survive.

  The police car closed up some more, now only about two hundred yards back. Luther squinted and tried to see the officer inside, but windshield glare prevented him from making out the trooper's face. They passed a sign indicating an exit two miles up the highway.

  There, he thought. There the officer would try to pull him over, maybe have another cop join him. The police car moved a little closer but did not try to overtake the Toyota.

  Luther scanned ahead. No lights. No police cars. With luck, he would meet the cop alone. He smiled at the thought. A
plan formulated, coalescing, not in his mind, but in muscle and sinew. His body prepared for what was to come in the next few minutes.

  He turned his head toward the girl, Lauren. She was nervous. She knew.

  Their eyes met. She was defiant, working hard to maintain the identity she had been fighting for with him, that identity that she thought was the key to survival, to being his partner. He almost laughed.

  Yes, she was smart. There was a cunning similar to his own behind those blue eyes. He saw it. She recognized that whatever happened, he was going to end their little charade in a few more minutes.

  Luther thought about that. The game would have to end sooner than he planned. That was a disappointment.

  There was an upside too. The officer in the patrol car would be his, would die on the side of the road as she watched. That ending might be better than the one he had planned.

  He wondered if she really knew that she would be next, or did she still think that they would be 'partners' after she saw him kill a cop. If she did, she was not as smart as he thought.

  No, the girl was smart. She would know what would come next. He let that thought settle for a second. Yes, she would know. Even now, Luther could smell and taste her fear. The fear filled him with confidence and with power.

  Luther saw the red and blue emergency lights come on behind him. They were about a half mile from the exit. Luther maintained his speed.

  His hand reached under his shirt, touched the knife's handle, and then moved to the small pistol in his pocket. Knife or gun?

  The thought of slitting the cop’s throat made him tremble with anticipation. The gun would be faster and safer, though.

  He decided to allow the unfolding of events to determine which weapon he would use to end the unlucky cop's life. There was no hesitation or doubt in his mind that the officer in the car behind would be dead in the next few minutes, and then the girl. Adrenalin surged through his body.